


666 Asexuality Ficlet

by Liannabob



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: 666 ficlet, Asexuality, F/M, Pillow Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 15:11:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20438093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liannabob/pseuds/Liannabob
Summary: A moment of pillow-talk and reflection, in which Lucifer tells Chloe about people that don't desire sex.





	666 Asexuality Ficlet

**Author's Note:**

> Full title: "The Quick Asexual Thing I Wrote Instead of Working on The Next Chapter of Function Like I'm Supposed To"

“Never?” she asks. “Really, never?”

It makes Lucifer pause and think; search for half-dismissed moments tucked into his memory. Had there ever been anyone else he'd wanted to sleep with that had said no?

“Technically,” he says. “No.”

“Technically,” she repeats. There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. Chloe knows him well. Knows that half of what he says is true, _technically_. That he’s added that quantifier at all is as blatant as him outright telling her that there’s more to the story.

She kisses his cheek, his chin, his throat, and he grins. He has never had pillow talk like this before and this – this desire of hers to know him even better still - it delights him. 

“So, who was it then? This person that you _technically_ wanted to sleep with who said no?”

“Well, ‘want’ is the interesting word, there,” he says. She nips him over his collarbone - a small, bright flash of pain that no other lover has ever been able to give him. It’s sharp and teasing. A treasure.

“You’re stalling,” she says.

“I’m explaining,” he denies, mock-offended. “Once it’s clear there’s no answering desire, I can’t really say it’s true that I want to have sex with them anymore.”

She presses her cheek against his naked chest, over his heart. She’s laying more on top of him than not, using him to prop herself up with a possessiveness that makes him ache with pleasure. She raises an impatient eyebrow.

“Not everyone desires sex,” he says. “And not everyone desires sex with men. There have always been people that bookend the Kinsey scale. And plenty of people who aren’t on that scale at all.” He tips up one shoulder in the tiniest of shrugs. “Most of humanity falls in the middle. I can’t say I’ve ever felt neglected.”

“Anyone I’d know?” She asks.

“Are you asking for filthy little details? Or, as the case were, perfectly chaste little details?” He thinks about it. “There have been a few royals over the centuries that might’ve made their way into the American education system, but I shan’t hold my breath. More recently…? Hmm. Misty Canyons.”

“Misty Canyons the porn star,” Chloe says blankly.

“You know her work?” He asks, thrilled. She blushes prettily, but her frown remains.

“Enough to know she’s done scenes with a wide variety of people. Men and women both.”

“You little pervert!” He crows. His detective is _full_ of surprises.

She puts her hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles. It makes him laugh harder.

“Shut up. And – what I mean is, what do you mean that Misty didn’t desire you?”

“She’s asexual, love,” he says, still laughing.

“She’s a _porn star_,” Chloe tells him. His laughter trickles out and confusion settles in. 

“Yes?” He asks. “She’s very good at it, too. But her job isn’t her sexuality.”

“So she just…?” Chloe trails off. “How does _that _work.” 

Another tip of his shoulder.

“I can’t say we talked about it. She reminded me of… oh what was her name. Cassia. A prostitute I used to drink with in Rome, back in its heyday. Beautiful girl. Breasts that you could bury yourself in for days. Wicked sense of humor. One of the richest prostitutes in that quarter on account of her skill, but…” He flicks his fingers dismissively. “She wasn’t attracted to her patrons, or to me. Not in that way, at least. Oh, we spent such a pleasant week together before Amenadiel spoiled the fun.”

“But, what did you do with her for a week, then? If you didn’t have sex.”

“Learned to play the lyre. Gossiped, drank, told stories. Traded deep-throating tips. You’d’ve liked her, love. Such a clever thing. Terrible cook, though.” He smiles, remembering the burnt, awful wheat pancakes. The taste had lingered even in Hell.

“Huh,” Chloe says softly. 

“Shall I tell you more?” Lucifer asks. When she nods against him, her breath puffing along his skin and her eyes wide and curious, he speaks.


End file.
